It's ironic that a small road in a small town in a remote state became the final fast food battleground. Or at least, that's what the historians say.
It all started in the summer. It could've been a gorgeous day for a picnic. Instead, it was an awful day of bloodshed.
The Tudor McDonald's militia came stomping out of their new corral. They marched the perimeter of their lot, picking up cigarette butts and chanting, "I don't know but I been told, Burger King buns are covered in mold." They were a strange band. But they looked good and they did their job.
They were led by a man known only as Big Mac. He was pretty quiet and mostly kept to himself, which is why it was so startling when he hissed, "Enemy contingent sighted! Get down!"
All eyes tracked across the road to the Taco Bell lot. The Taco Bell army was worming its way towards Tudor Road.
"I don't think that they saw us," whispered Big Mac.
"Maybe we can ambush them." said Ian. Ian was second in command and known for his quick thinking and eagle eyes. He was a valuable member of the troupe.
The men whispered amongst themselves for a few more minutes until Mac outlined the plan. Each man steeled himself for the approaching battle.
The Taco Bell men had slunk even closer to the neutral zone. The city had asked the three restaurants to please cease fire across major roadways to decrease incidences of pedestrian injury, but obviously Taco Bell had chosen to ignore the request.
Mac sent a small party around back to surround the Taco Bell force. The men drew closer and closer together. "They don't even know we're here," said Ian. "The Mexican bastards."
And so the McDonald's men attacked. Taco Bell barely knew what hit them. They held a small patch of land in front of Fudo, a small Chinese restaurant sandwiched between Taco Bell and Burger King.
Suddenly, a woman emerged from Fudo, crying, "Hi honies! Can I get you any..." Her voice trailed off as a bullet impacted her chest.
"FUDO!" barked Mac.
And then Burger King was there, wearing uniforms that advertised their new $20 Great Tastes menu.
They joined the melee with an almost religious fervor. Bodies piled all over the road, blocking traffic.
Ian shouted, "I love the smell of Hotcakes in the morning!" as he bared his teeth at a honking car. It stopped honking.
It was down to eight men. Four of them represented McDonald's, one from Taco Bell and three from Burger King. Mac grabbed the final taco. He was... THE BIG ENCHILADA.
"Surrender or DIE!" growled Mac.
Enchilada spat in Mac's face, "I will NEVER surrender to you, cow fucker!"
Mac calmly wiped the spittle from his face and then, just as calmly, shot Enchilada in the back of the head. "He shouldn't have done that," explained Mac.
There were now four men: Mac, Ian, a B.K. grunt, and the Burger King leader known only as Whopper Junior. Mac started to smile. From behind his stale biscuit entrenchment, Mac yelled, "You know, Junior, this could all end if you just surrendered!"
"NEVER!" came the desperate reply.
Just then, back-up arrived to aid each flagging front. More men, more blood. And when the corp troops were exhausted... When the battle had raged for days... When labor had risen to critical mass...
The same four men were left.
"Surrender, Junior." croaked Mac.
"Never!" croaked Junior.
And then they looked. They looked at the puddles of blood, the piles of men, the stinking flesh. They reviewed the past few days, hearing echoes of the fallen, and thought: Have I made a difference? Did anyone care? Will they even remember?
They stood simultaneously, the last four men in a war that had raged on for more than a century, and opened fire. Each fell, but only Mac survived long enough to whisper, "Was all of this worth only minimum wage?"